Page 56 of Driven By Dragonblood
No lightbulb flicked on in my mind on how to get out of this mess, and I had no choice but to return to my office and face the unsettling girl who seemed intent on filling my head with more shit.
Or perhaps, answers to what was really going on in my head.
I found her where I’d left her, a hint of her smile still curving her lips as her gaze followed me as I settled behind my desk once more.
While I could simply quit the temporary job at Lockwood, sell my father’s house, and hightail it back east once more, I refused to let this puzzle haunt me for the rest of my life. “Tell me about this orb, Emelia. What does it look like?”
“An egg, but much larger, almost the size of a football.” Her head tipped to the side again. “It spoke to the voice inside me in a language I didn’t understand, but my inner beast shared what I was to do.”
“Find me.”
Her smile dazzled again, like sunshine to the darkness of my soul, as though my vocalizing her statement from earlier meant I’d accepted her words as truth. “Yes.”
“And help me in my journey,” I added, sure that pushing for the ridiculousness of her mind wouldn’t suggest I traveled a path toward madness along with her.
“Yes.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. “Did the, ah, orb tell you anything else?”
“Not directly, no.” A frown flitted over her brow. “But my beast whispered about the history of the souls in the stars, of ancient beings, my ancestors—and yours—watching us from the night sky.”
She shared too familiar a story to discount, unfortunately.
I muttered a curse beneath my breath while slumping back in my chair. “So, how were you supposed to help me?”
“By simply sharing truth.”
“The truth of what you believe you heard,” I asked for clarity.
“What Ididhear.”
I glanced around my office, my brain even more of a scattered mess than before Emelia had arrived for our scheduled session. “Why come to Lockwood? Why not approach me on the street?” I suggested, thinking I might be able to make her stumble in this story she wove in order to trip me up.
“Because I, too, am meant to be here.” She laid her hand over her flat chest. “My mates would not locate me otherwise.”
“But you’re only what? Thirteen?” I asked, my voice low, brow furrowed, remembering I hadn’t read her file.
“Sixteen, going on seventeen.” She shrugged and smiled again. “I’m a ward of the state, considered mentally inadequate, so this is where I’ll stay until it’s time for my alpha to whisk me away.”
The clock on the wall ticked as I processed—or tried to, rather—what she’d said, every damn word aligning not just with David and his granddaughter’s blog but also with what Primrose had told Jaxon, my supposed beta.
Changing the subject wasn’t ideal, considering I now had more questions about myself than before, but I had a job to do at Lockwood, and Emelia was a patient entrusted to my care.
Long after she left my office, I sat and stared unseeing at the beige wall of the stifling office, wondering what the fuck I should do, what I should believe, even though the evidence stacked toward the insanity of dragonblood and shifters.
An idea flitted through my head, and I grabbed my cell, pulling up a number I hadn’t called since we’d gone our separate ways not long after college.
Steven Hasslet had always been a nerd who loved sci-fi and the possibility of supernatural shit. We’d studied countless hours together while working toward our bachelor’s. We’d also shared a handful of women but had kept our hands off each other by unspoken agreement.
“Patty?” Hasslet’s voice betrayed a wide grin. “That you?”
I found my lips responding. “How are you, Steven?”
“Well, and yourself?”
“Not so well—which is why I called.”
He chuckled. “The emotionally untouchable Patrick Macaire needs a sex therapist?”
